


A Treasure Lost in Time or Schrödinger's Dan

by Babel_Fish



Category: Radio 1 RPF, Video Blogging & YouTube RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Supernatural Elements, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:16:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babel_Fish/pseuds/Babel_Fish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A romantic, bit angsty timey wimey wibbly wobbly sort of thing. Rewritten in an attempt to improve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Treasure Lost in Time or Schrödinger's Dan

It's been an uneventful day of Pokemon, anime and a little bit of editing. Dan is comfortably ensconced in his sofa crease engrossed in his macbook. Phil is stretched out at the other end of the sofa, reading an actual book, or rather re-reading one of his favourite Stephen Kings. He's deep into the story, engrossed and very still, apart from his toes. They seem to have a life of their own, as they wriggle they brush now and then against Dan's thigh. Neither of them are consciously aware of the small movements, but there is something comforting about it none the less.

Phil looks up from his book, his eyes suddenly bright.

"Dan!.. hey, Dan!... Why haven't we been to the Globe?”

“Uh?” is all Dan manages, not looking up from his laptop.

Undeterred Phil continues “I mean it's about time we did something a little bit 'cultural'. We've lived here a while now, but we haven't really explored the city...”

This elicits another grunt of acknowledgment from Dan, who turns his head slightly but still doesn't tear his eyes away from the screen

Phil battles on manfully. “Um... I've booked tickets for us to see the Tempest at the Globe, I really want to see the building, it's from Shakespeare’s time you know.. kind of” Phil is beginning to wonder if Dan has become actually fused to his laptop and can no longer turn his head. He tries a dramatic cough as a not so subtle demand for attention. “Also, Colin Morgan from Merlin is in the play. I know how much you liked him and Bradley"

Dan looks up from his laptop, the pale reflected light from the screen somehow managing to enhance the distracted blank look on his face "umm.. What?"

Phil sighs and wonders whether to smother Dan with a cushion and forget about The Globe or try explaining again. He puts the cushion down. "I said Dan, we should.."

"Aha, yes... sorry... cultural... I heard you... what did you say about Colin Morgan"

Dan has always enjoyed showing off by reciting a bit of Shakespeare now and then, flexing his thespian muscles. He often slips into conversation how much fun he had, and how good he was in his school plays, this is Dan after all. However he seems to have lost interest in going out to watch actual performances, too busy enjoying modern culture. Like anime and live performances of gaming music. While he enjoys visiting the museums London has to offer he isn't as keen to learn a lot about the history of the city itself, to visit actual old buildings and historical locations. Actually, he would claim he's keen, truth is he's just a little bit too lazy to do anything about it.

Phil on the other hand is kind of fascinated by the whole historical aspect of their new home 'town'. Not that he doesn't love all the modern stuff too. The very structure of the city speaks of it's past, stories from a thousand years ago written in the stones and names of the streets. Two thousand years ago even, a fledgeling city starting to establish and unfurl, indelible marks of it's early beginnings still etched into everyday use.

He enjoys dropping little factoids on Dan at random, and watching him roll his eyes, fondly. The river Fleet for example, giving it's name to Fleet street, was one of the reasons the Romans settled in the area. Now mostly subterranean, it's still there running partially under Fleet street itself. Even though Dan can't be bothered to unearth these little snippets of information himself Phil often hears him repeat 'Phil's Phacts' to out of town acquaintances and friends at work and social gatherings. It helps oil the awkward social interaction wheels a little.

Phil has harboured a low key desire to explore more of their new home city for a while, and The Globe in particular is something that he keeps coming back to in his top 5 places to visit.

At least Dan seems interested in Phil's planned evening out. "You'll love it Dan, Colin is playing Ariel. Think how much you'll savour annoying people by quoting it for months".

"Well when are we going then?"... Phil beams, That was easy he thinks, having expected at least some whining about how long the play is, how hard the seats are going to be be and how tiring actually engaging with a live performance is.

Their tickets are booked for the midnight performance towards the end of the run. There weren't many left when Phil had booked them, so their seats are up in the middle gallery, but they should have a great view. Phil thinks the late night performance will be more romantic, and maybe, just maybe, there won't be quite as many people there at that hour to recognise them. They like meeting the people that enjoy their work, but sometimes it's nice to have something just for them. Now that it's arranged Dan is looking forward to becoming reacquainted with Shakespeare, he's looking forward to seeing Colin Morgan perform live even more.

As usual the weeks leading up to their date night are very busy. That doesn't mean they have no time for each other. They are always affectionate, but there is something about this time that feels more intense somehow. The simple moments sprawled on the sofa browsing the internet with their feet entangled are warm fuzzy oases in between the times when innocent touches escalate into heated kisses, and passionate make out sessions that they don't quite make it to the bedroom.

When the time comes for their visit to the Globe Phil isn't over awed by it at all, well maybe a little bit, or even quite a lot. Yes quite a lot. He imagines being one of the people thronging to see it in Shakespeare's time, when this was a great night out for the ordinary people. Dan is a little more prosaic about it, "it's quite small isn't it... I mean it's almost literally doll sized". "Actually Dan it's you who are giant sized". "So are you, you spoon". "Nope it's just you Dan, I fit the building perfectly fine, it's not doll sized at all". Except it kind of is, a little.

The building has been recreated as best they could within modern health and safety guidelines to be a replica of the original. Phil had been disappointed to learn that this isn't the actual Globe; but is satisfied that it has been painstakingly recreated, and is literally only a few hundred yards away from the original.

"People were more used to being in close proximity then Dan, so they didn't expect big open spaces. Also...” Phil pauses as he catches Dan's, no please do go on I'm only a little bored expression. Grinning, he rises to the challenge and does carry on, with only a small smug smirk....”Anyway Daniel, I'm sure you'll be fascinated to know... that the general population were often malnourished, and lots of them had like... um... the plague?... no um... well you know 'illnesses, and worms and stuff' Soooo, most of them didn't grow as tall as they could have". Dan rolls his eyes as Phil waffles on, attempting to paraphrase some of the information from booklets at the touristy info shop, and just plain making some of it up. Even though he is sure Dan already knows some of this stuff, in the depths of that big brain of his, Phil likes the fond smiles, and exaggerated demands to “please shut up” he gets from Dan.

Dan ruffles Phil's hair patronisingly, "well aren't you a mine of useless information Mr Lester". Phil is not expecting to have his hair defiled right then, and his affronted expression is one Dan wishes he'd been quick enough to capture with his phone. Phil's hand lifts and pauses in mid air in an aborted move to straighten his disarranged fringe. Fingers curl into his palm as if they have forgotten what they were going to do. "Daaaan!..." he stage whispers leaning in close, in what Dan is pretty sure are *mock* reverential tones, but not absolutely sure, "we're at the actual Globe...sort of".

Before Phil can stride off and get lost exploring somewhere Dan does something he never risks in public, not since Youtube first took off for them anyway. One long arms snakes around Phil's waist, pulling him tight into a sideways hug. Briefly squeezing Phil up against him, hips bumping awkwardly, he plants possibly the fastest kiss on record on the top of his already mussed up hair. Releasing him just as quickly. Always aware of the possibility of being observed by one of their ever growing army of 'Phans'.

They exchange a brief look, reading each other has always been so easy. Right now they wish they were somewhere more private, just for a moment. Or, that they at least didn't have to be so careful about being spotted. Dan noticed the little shiver that had passed through Phil when he placed that tiny kiss on his head, they way he'd closed his eyes and allowed a contented smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. It makes him happy that they still have this effect on each other.

Phil has never been physically demonstrative in public, it's just not something that's part of his personality. He doesn't normally mind saving his natural loving urges for the privacy of places where he feels at home, and people he feels comfortable with. However sometimes, just sometimes he finds it hard to control his naturally affectionate nature in public with Dan, he simply can't get enough of him. This is one of those moments. He finds he has to push down hard on the urge to pull him into a kiss that is a lot less innocent.

At this moment to simply casually lace their fingers together and continue on to their seats with hands entwined would be nice. This repression of their natural instincts is the price they are willing to pay to keep their private relationship out of their working sphere as much as they can. For now at least.

Access to the seating area is quite constricted and has to be approached in pretty much single file. Winding up narrow staircases, each accessed separately via a number of turret like entry points. Narrow corridors sweep right around the whitewashed building on each story, off these corridors, at intervals, lead short flights of steps to the galleries. The unusual structure and access adds to the sense of anticipation that this is not going to be a standard theatre experience.

Along the way, a few actors in simple very unadorned flowing white dresses wander the corridors, these it later turns out are the ones that will provide 'special effects. Running through the corridors banging instruments to simulate thunder, darting through the audience throwing petal shaped tissue paper into the air from the galleries etc. It's a simple idea but so effective, not to mention beautiful.

“Wow, like literally wow!” Dan's eyes are shining, and a wide smile graces his face, a warm glow spreads through Phil, contentment, happiness, that Dan seems impressed and is enjoying the experience so far. They take in the scene around them. It is glorious, but they are both a little nervous if they are honest. The area is... well to be frank a little bit scary. The gallery is quite narrow from back to front, and steeply pitched, it's the pitch that makes them feel a little unsafe, and the fact that the benches have no backs so they feel more unprotected somehow.

They seem somewhat precariously perched above the stage. They talk about this a little, but the general consensus is that the edge of uncertainty they feel kind of adds to the whole experience. Gives it a frisson of excitement that is different to normal theatre visits.

The pitch works well to allow a relatively unobstructed view of the stage. At least for people who aren't seated behind giants it's unobstructed. Dan and Phil definitely feel the urge to scooch down a little so that the people behind have a fair go at watching the action over their lofty heads.

The simple wooden benches follow the curve of the circular building. Once they are used to the perching sensation they are surprisingly comfortable. Even though they are slightly low and leave their knees jutting up a little awkwardly. They like the little touch that you can hire a cushion from a booth outside. Unfortunately it was a little touch they hadn't noticed until already seated, and wondering why so many people had brought little red cushions with them. A short chat with Phil's immediate neighbour on the bench informs them of the rental option. Which had he taken more time he would have been able to read about online when he booked the tickets.

Phil breathes deep, sucking in the unique smell and atmosphere of the place. The stage is framed beautifully, and they are also able to see the audience sweeping intimately around it. The empty space in front of the stage is crowded with 'groundlings', the standing audience members who pay a lower price to get in, they may have to stand but they have a great close to the action experience. He loves it he actually loves it. The friendly buzz of conversation works to heighten their levels of anticipation. Looking at Dan his heart skips a beat, he['s beautiful, his cheeks are flushed, and his eyes are big and shining roaming the stage taking in every detail of the minimalist set.  
Phil loves seeing him like this, he looks so entranced, a sweetness to his features that is only sometimes fleetingly seen by their followers. The face of his Dan, less sassy, less guarded, his.

Phil takes a chance that no one is looking, that no one cares about the two tall guys up in the distance, anonymous figures in a throng. For a moment he leans his head on Dan's shoulder, slides his arm low around his waist, his thumb stroking just above his hip. Dan leans in to it and rests head on the silky mop.

He does't put his arm around Phil, but reaches across his own body so that his hand can rest over Phil's on his hip. He Traces tiny subtle shapes against the smooth skin, he loves Phil's hands, they are just beautiful, they seem delicate but so strong when they need to be. Not quite strong enough to always open a new jar of their favourite peanut butter first time though. Quiet moments doing something together, where they can get lost in the experience, and the crowd, are precious.

Soon actors start to inhabit the stage, slowly taking their places, almost set dressing, until the main players sweep onto the stage and the play begins. Time flies by, they laugh and gasp along with everyone else in all the right places. The atmosphere coils through them, the place is truly alive. Colin Morgan nearly steals the show when Ariel strides onto the stage, a harpy in every way, the actors operating his wide sweeping wings barely noticed as Ariel's presence fills the space. “Damn impressive!” Dan blurts out, Phil simply lets out an actual “Ohhh!”.

Half way through the small group of people on the front row of their gallery leave. Summoned by a text judging by the irritable sigh when one of them checks their phone and nudges the other two, before they collectively elbow and apologise their way out of the row. They are slightly freaked out because they feel less protected and concealed by an immediate barrier of bodies, but also delighted because their view is now superb.

On the benches behind them are a family with a clutch of young kids. It's impressive how quiet and well behaved they are. Until towards the end that is, when not surprisingly they start to get a little bit fractious and whiney. Nothing that can spoil the performance though.

Finally the end plays out, and God it's good. The audience rise to applaud, it seems to go on and on, the love and appreciation pouring out of them. Dan leans close and whispers specifically just how he wants to show his appreciation for Phil's idea when they get home. Phil can feel a blush flushing his cheeks. He's smiling so hard his face hurts, and he really, really wants Dan to show him how much he loved this when they get home.

Their gaze catches, for a moment it's only them, delightfully wicked sultry dark eyes sweep Phil's body, and just like that Phil is finding it harder to breath. He could swear Dan can actually read his mind, see the want, the yearning bubbling under his skin, because a devilish grin creeps across his face. Once again hiding in plain sight amongst the crowd, he takes another risk, turns slightly and leans in to kiss Phil, just a quick peck, nothing too obvious.

A feather light touch of his soft lips... Then "Jesus DAN!" a little girl behind them excited by all the clapping and wound up from having to stay still for so long is jumping up and down on the bench behind them. They hear her mother scream as she slips forward kicking in to Dan. Then as if in slow motion Dan's knees give way under him. A look of utter shock on his face, as he tumbles backwards.

Perhaps if he hadn't turned into the kiss he might have toppled face forward with his hands able to find a grip. Phil surges forward, but everything is happening too fast. Their fingers brush as Dan tumbles, Phil thinks he's got him, clutching at him in relief only to realise he's clutching at nothing. Dan's long legs catch on the bench in front. The momentum and his centre of balance being so comparatively high takes him back again and flips him over the low edge. By this time Phil is hanging over the edge too reaching out for him. He can hear himself screaming Dan's name, his eyes feel so wide they could fall out of his head.

The middle gallery isn't that high but plenty high enough to do serious damage, or kill anyone foolish enough to fall from it, and anyone they landed on beneath. Phil has never blinked so much in his life, trying desperately trying to get his stupid eyes to work.

That hadn't just happened, it isn't possible. Dan didn't hit the ground, Phil tried to get his eyes to see properly. As Dan had tumbled away from him, he'd winked out of existence in mid air. Phil literally never saw him hit the ground. Phil's eyes hurt, can you sprain your eyes? Trying to scan the floor and crowd for Dan, to see what is not there. Stupid eyes, stupid stupid eyes. Surely the gasp that had shaken the theatre was because someone had fallen, not because they had disappeared into thin air?

Before Dan had even disappeared people all over the auditorium start ringing the emergency services, and sirens are already starting to swell in the distance. Only a minute or two has passed, Phil is still hung over the balcony in disbelief. Tears carving a steady stream down his face. He tries to gather himself together, in his shock, in this muddled state he tries to follow what seems the logical course of action. He needs to see Dan, find him, now! Many strong hands pull him backwards. Comforting words bounce off his ears unheard as he continues to try and follow Dan over the edge, follow his path, that would take him straight to him, right?

He looks at the faces around him and doesn't see them. Mumbling almost incoherent thank you's for pulling him to safety he shakes off his rescuers. He attempts to run down the stairs, but it's more of a series of clumsy ricochetting stumbles and falls as he fails to negotiate the curve of the building. Finally he reaches the yard. Hoarse with shock and disbelief Phil's voice is unrecognisable to his own ears, "Where is he! Move away let me see! Where is he!"

Crowds have gathered, milling around, wanting to see what has happened. Some people unable to believe their own eyes have started to move away. Convincing themselves this was some kind of optical illusion or trick, maybe they'll read something about Derren Brown pulling a stunt for some T.V. programme in the papers tomorrow. Phil lowers himself to the floor where Dan should have landed, whimpering as his hands stroke obsessively over an imaginary figure. As if he can draw him out of the floor, he's there just hidden from him and he's going to feel his way to him. His movements slow and he howls, sobs shaking him apart bit by bit. Dan the only word on his lips.

The paramedics arrive, immediately assuming the guy having a scale 10 panic attack is the person they have been called for. They need contacts, does he have anyone they need to call. Who is Dan, what's his number. They don't believe the story several people are eager to tell them. They try their best to calm Phil, and it seems like they need to get this Dan's number. All Phil can do is chant, “he's gone”.

They insist on examining Phil for injuries, the emergency operator had informed them that this was a fall from a height. They find no injuries. But Phil clearly needs help, he seems to be going into shock. Something in Phil's peripheral vision catches his attention. A young woman, showing one of the ambulance crew something on her phone. Pale and shaking and feeling weaker than a kitten he still manages to push the paramedic trying to get his blood pressure aside. He would normally have considered this to be incredibly rude. He stumbles towards the woman in a daze. “Is that a video of the fall?”. The woman looks up surprised at the intrusion.

Technically there is no filming allowed during the performance, but Carys hadn't been able to resist as the whole cast gathered on stage, doing the traditional dance thing at the end. Thank God for rule breakers. It clearly showed the focus of her attention swinging to the gallery. Phil's heart hammered in his chest as he watched Dan tumbling backwards, and then nothing. Just before the halfway point he just 'flicked out'.  
Phil's face crumples and his breath starts to come short and ragged, the pain in his chest searing, he starts to crumple to the ground.

This time as the paramedics rush to him he is compliant, not really there at all, to all intents and purposes Phil Lester is offline. He is manhandled out into the waiting ambulance, answering questions about medication and next of kin etc on monosyllabic automatic pilot.

When the engine starts and the doors close he is startled into action. Standing abruptly he does his best to rush for the doors. “Stop, I have to get out, I have to wait for him, what if he comes back and I'm not there” Phil's voice is quiet, pitiful and still so broken. He's fumbling with the doors, shrugging off kind hands that try to guide him back to safety.

He needs to get back to the place where Dan should have landed. He's shaking hard now, and so cold his teeth are starting to clatter together. Soothing voices murmur something about a pinch and there's a little stinging sensation in his arm. Oh... is this the sedation they talk about in films and stuff when the hysterical bereaved person has to be sedated. Is he that person now?

Phil feels kind of woozy, not sleepy just calmer, and even a little warmer somehow. More divorced from the turmoil he felt a moment ago. The journey and what happens when he arrives at the hospital is a complete blank.

Sun is streaming through a window, teasing Phil back to the waking world, he reaches for the familiar shape that should be next to him. Realisation unfurls in him and his voice voice barely recognisable follows a split second later, “No!” More tears, God how many can one man contain, Phil is right back there in the moment Dan disappeared.

Gasping he struggles to sit up, panic threatening to drag him down. The desire to hunt, to seek out the one person that matters more to him than anything else propels him forward. He has to talk to the police, check all his devices and messages. Maybe dan had actually hit the floor and been lucky to be unharmed.

Phil's mind in firing on all cylinders, perhaps Dan had used the fall as a way to leave him, start a new life somewhere else. Or maybe he is injured wandering somewhere, his memory wiped. Ridiculous scenario after scenario plays through his head in a split second, alongside more logical ones. Anything and everything floods his brain, what his next course of action should be, how can he go on without Dan, how the hell were they going to find him. It all clamoured for attention, all at once.

Familiar voices pierce the panic, gentle warm hands against his skin “Phil, Phiiil... sweetheart". He tries to control his breathing, as he starts to regain his composure he realises that he can hardly see a thing. He gropes at the grey metal blob next to the bed, which he assumes to be some kind of cabinet. In his disorientation he's doing what he would at home when he wakes, grope for his glasses. Soft hands take his, and he finds his glasses pressed into them. Eagerly slipping them on he's grateful that someone must have made him remove his contacts before he slept, and or passed out, he wasn't sure which it had been, someone has also obviously been home and picked up his specs.

The first thing he sees clearly is the worried tearful face of his mum. Next to her is Chris. “Sweetheart, are you a bit more... you know... compos mentis now? “I've been so worried” Her eyes are so red, Phil doesn't think he's ever seen his mum's eyes so swollen and red. She strokes her fingers through his hair. She doesn't know what to say so she starts with something solid and informative. “Dan's family are here too. They wants to talk to you, but they know you are as shocked as they are. His mum asked me to say they are here for you, as well as to...”. She glances at Chris as if searching for help, for ways to say it. “to try and find out what happened to Dan”.

“Oh God mum, what can I tell them, I don't know any more than anyone else there last night”. He's so very confused, his stomach and brain constantly flipping as if being jump scared every few minutes. He has nothing solid to anchor him. If Dan was dead he'd want to die too, but at least there would a terrible tangible quality to that, it would have been 'a fact'. Something to 'know'. How can he cope with this, his face melts into a mask of grief, his bottom lip drops and his eyes feel like they are melting.

Catherine moves forward, lowering herself to the bed next to her son reaching for him. He falls into his mothers embrace like she's the only lifeboat on his sinking ship. She rocks slightly, very gently patting his back rhythmically, just as she had when he was little. Her heart is heavy, worried sick for Dan and his family, but she would be lying if she said there wasn't a tiny part of her brain repeating over and over, thank God it wasn't my baby.

Chris keeps quiet for a little while, knowing that Phil needs the solid grounding force that his mother provides right now. The rest of the family are converging on the hospital, ready to do whatever needs doing to help. Chris and PJ had rushed in to bring a few bits and pieces from home. Chris had been the first number Catherine had called after the news. She knew he lived near Phil and could get to the hospital quickly, before they could. They wanted a familiar face to be there if he woke up.

Chris has been fielding incredulous messages from Bryony for most of the night. He's so tired his eyes are burning and everything feels tender. Bryony and Wirrow have just boarded the plane back from their break in Cyprus, cutting it short to be with Phil. They won't be able to text for a while. Perhaps now Chris can find time to try and process this terrible thing. He wants to comfort Phil, but has no idea how to help.

He'd rung PJ to come along too, for moral support and as another friendly face to be there for Phil, at the moment he is with Dan's family showing them, at their insistence, a video he has got hold of, of the incident. Maybe it will save Phil from having to relive it again just yet, and help them understand why Phil won't be able to tell them anything they don't already know. Apart from that Dan was having a wonderful time, and was very very happy at the moment he slipped.

No one has the slightest idea how to proceed with this. Not even the police have the faintest idea of where to start. They have actual photographic evidence from more than one angle and source of what happened. It's surprising just how many images and short clips of the incident, in various degrees of clarity they have. All of them show Dan tumbling off the balcony and then mid flail simply vanishing. No one shot him, no one dragged his crumpled corpse away, there is no crumpled corpse, there is no crime, there is no major accident to investigate. Sometime even the police wish there was such a person as Sherlock Holmes.

After what seems an eternity of doctors checking his vitals, discussing the need for meds or not, ensuring he will have people to look after him Phil is finally allowed to make the worst journey of his life. His dad and Martyn have arrived, they are going home, back to the flat. Without Dan

Dan's Pov  
Dan is lost in the gorgeous huge blue eyes of the man he loves, he can almost see the lustful thoughts going through his mind. After several years together they can read each other like large print books, and Phil is high on life and horny as hell. He is especially adorable when he is horny, in Dan's biased opinion. His lips are rosy and inviting and the look on his face is ravenous.

Dan wants to tease him, actually what he really wants is a teleport system to get them home right now, but a kiss will help. Hopefully Phil won't linger at the shop afterwards, or insist on having a cocktail at the bar, or all the other things he would normally pester Dan to do. This way will hopefully get Phil out of the theatre and home to the bedroom sooner.

Even after all this time kissing Phil is one of Dan's favourite things. He shivers with pleasure as their lips touch. Then 'wtf!' Dan's legs buckle he can't get his balance. His arms fly out to grab on to Phil, for a moment he thinks he has him, but it's too late. He's stumbling and tumbling backwards over benches and then, whump! over the slightly too low for tall people barrier he flips. A whoosh of air then nothing. Until now.

Dan aches all over, is he hung over? He definitely feels hung over, but they haven't had anything to drink, and what is that weird smell?! He sits up, so carefully, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes to clear his head and his vision. Taking a deep breath he opens his eyes properly for the first time. Automatically he reaches into his pocket for his phone, the screen is cracked, and it is dead, not even a flicker of life. Bloody Apple battery life he thinks, or maybe the fall just broke it. Sighing he shoves it back into his pocket.

He realises he's pretty cold, no wonder when he's sat on a chilly densely packed earthen floor. His head flicks from side to side, puzzlement writing an essay in his features as he takes in his surroundings. There are a few rushes scattered at the edges of the yard. Well look at him being all smart and recognising a rush, or maybe it's straw. How the hell does he know. Whatever it is it looks fairly fresh, as if just recently fallen or been swept there.

Little flecks of dirt stand out against the dark backdrop of his clothes, and he starts to brush them off, trying to tidy himself up. The place is very quiet, where on earth has every one gone. Events are starting to coalesce in his slightly screwed up brain. He's just fallen hasn't he? Surely everyone wouldn't have all just left as normal with an unconscious person on the floor. Phil would be here at the very least.

Dan inhales sharply, 'am I dead?!', his internal monologue is kicking in now. He considers his options. He's fallen from a height, now no one is here, and he is in a place that looks like the one he'd fallen in, yet felt, sounded, smelt entirely different. He could be dead, it would make more sense than how things seemed to be panning out right now.

He rolls his head, trying to work out some of the little knots he can feel making their home in the muscles there. As he does so he looks up, even in his current state of confusion he can appreciate the wonderful roofless design of the central part of the building. Above him stretches a cloudless night sky. He can see the stars quite clearly, like little diamonds pricking the velvet darkness of the night. It is so beautiful. Not remarkable in most places, but unusual for the brightly lit city of London that washes out the stars and leaves a mostly blank sky. The lack of the sound of traffic is peaceful too. No traffic? What the hell is going on.

Dan reels his wandering mind back in, perhaps subconsciously he is trying to distract himself, because 'this' isn't possible. Everything smells different, there is a more pungent odour to the air, it even tastes different somehow. The organic smell of the earth, and plant material that he continues to assume are rushes, mixed with food and the distinctive smells of humanity.

Sitting there on the chilly compacted earth is not helping to get answers. Time to try his legs. Tentatively he bends them, circles his feet to test his ankles. He is more than a little surprised and grateful that they seem to be working just fine. A full complement of limbs are functional, go Daniel. HIs head still pounds and he feels a little nauseous but that should probably be expected all things considered.

Dan feels disassociated, he knows he should probably be panicking, but he seems to have slipped into something that might actually be appropriate and useful for once. Survival mode. Scan your surroundings, get your bearings, check for exit points, don't do anything rash and sort out the weird later.  
As he stands up, brushing the dirt off his backside he hears quiet footsteps. He turns, hoping, even expecting, to see Phil coming to look for him. Probably about to tell him off for worrying him. Nevertheless he still braces himself for fight or flight, he already knows there is nowhere near enough to hide before the footsteps reach him. A quiet puzzled voice reached his ears, it definitely isn't Phil "How now good Sir?"

"Um? Pardon..sorry?"  
"How now good Sir? how dost thy find thine own self here, locked within?"

Dan shakes his head, hoping to clear what he believes is obviously a very realistic hallucination. Maybe he's not dead, maybe he just has brain damage. Because there is not someone walking towards him speaking and looking like a very well kitted out period actor. Is this some kind of very specific role play 'tour' he's got himself tangled up with? He runs his hand through his hair, trying to come up with something to say that doesn't seem totally bonkers. Unfortunately the first words his lips seem to want to form are “Phil... um...have you seen a Phil Lester, I fell and he's probably looking for me”. No not bonkers at all.

"Nay sir, I know not of a Phil Lester. Pray Sir, methinks thine head be muddled, does it pain thee?"

"Actually it does, a lot", Dan is not feeling so good his surroundings star to blur and his legs though not broken apparently are not working as well as he thought they were. He feels they may give out on him at any moment.  
"Good sir, mayhap thee couldst cometh to mine own home with me? mine good wife may helpest thou".

Dan hesitates, biting his lip. He takes in the mans appearance. He seems to be about fortyish, with thick curly deep auburn hair, speckles of grey are shot evenly through it. He looks sincere, and Dan doesn't feel threatened by him. If his offer is genuine and he doesn't mean to try and rob him then this man is extraordinarily kind and trusting. He decides to take him up on his offer, although he feels more than a little dazed he tries to keep his wits about him as the man leads him out of the theatre and into a London he does not recognise.

***

Phil has been home for a week now, the police have questioned him, and just about everyone who was at the Globe that night. Several times. He thinks they want to be sure he hadn't shoved the love of his life off the balcony. He breaks down on the eighth day home when he finds himself thinking hateful thoughts, like it would almost be better if Dan had died. At least Phil would know what had happened.

He'd watched some of their old videos, private ones as well as Youtube ones. He'd watched a lot of them, he'd watched them until the pain was like a thousand blades tearing him apart inside and he couldn't breath. His brother has his own key now, and walks in on him later that evening. Phil has every tablet in the flat piled into a bowl on the coffee table, from paracetamol, to tramadol, even a couple of old antibiotics and unfathomable tablets he doesn't even remember acquiring. He is siting in Dan's sofa crease with a half drunk coffee, and eyes that seem too big for his rapidly thinning face staring at the bowl.

“Phil! What have you done?!”  
Martyn's voice is rough, and high and harsher than he means it to be, Phil jerks almost spilling his coffee.  
“I.. I … never mind, it doesn't matter”  
“Phil?! It matters, what have you done?”

Martyn inhabits Phil's usual spot right next to the sofa crease, and eases the mug out of his brothers hands. Phil is staring through him, Martyn feels invisible. He presses his thumb gently but firmly to Phil's chin, aiming to open his mouth. What he expects to find in there he doesn't really know, may be a chubby bunny's worth of tablets safely un-swallowed.  
“Stop it Martyn, it's ok, I didn't take many”.

“Fuck!”, Martyn is throwing the bowl of pills into a carrier bag to show any health professional that might want to see them, and bundling Phil to the car before he has time to try and stop him.

The doctor at A&E doesn't want to risk not taking action so even though Phil doesn't appear to be showing signs of overdose they take blood tests, pump him full of activated charcoal and give him an antidote to opioid medication anyway. He's in overnight for observation with Martyn alternating between staring at his brothers broken sleeping form, pacing the waiting room when he's asked to leave the ward, and telling Phil off yet again when Phil is discharged the following morning. Neither Martyn or Phil tell anyone about this. Everyone is worried sick already, Phil doesn't want to die, not really. He just want's Dan back, he just wants the pain to stop.

Phil is lucky he supposes, he has more support from friends and family than he knows what to do with. Even Dan's mum who they didn't see enough of really is amazing. Despite her own grief and fear she is good to him.

Chris, Peej, Bryony and Wirrow in particular really come up trumps they spend a lot of time with him. Chris and PJ see him more than they have for years. Phil thinks they might be afraid that he's going to try and top himself. He doesn't tell them they already missed that drama, and does his best to reassure them that he's not going to go down that road. He thinks he's probably telling the truth.

Phil is trying now, trying so hard to carry on. One day he sits in his room, truly only his room now, in front of his camera. He doesn't switch it on and sleeps in 'Dan's room' that night. The next day he does switch it on and makes a video trying to explain what happened. The resulting mess is full of jump cuts. Why can't he get through more than a few sentences without tearing up, or crying. He's starting to get angry now, at himself and at Dan. He includes some links to news sites that have clips of the event, and articles about the freak incident, though he's sure anyone that followed Dan or him has already seen them. He used to revel in the weird kid, weird adult tag he has acquired, but he doesn't want their followers to think he's being weird about this. Not about Dan, never about Dan.

A week later he puts up another short video asking if any of their followers have any ideas that could help solve the mystery. He also tell them that he's taking a break from YouTube for a while, in truth he doesn't see himself going back to it, not without Dan in his life. He carries on with the radio show as best he can, stand ins take Dan's place some weeks, Phil hates them for it, while loving them for their kind supportive attitude. Eventually he backs away from the radio as much as he can, letting others take the slot, Louise and Jack, Ben and Hazel, they were good, better than he can manage right now.

The extra time not having to prepare for the show so often could be spent on his new obsession. Exploring every possible lead, and all kinds of strange and esoteric avenues, he's even looking up spells and incantations. Because this is bloody esoteric actually. How can a fully grown giant of a man just disappear. The police investigation rumbles on but they are up a blind alley. A documented genuine 'disappearance', mysterious, and not right, yes, but what is it? where's the crime?

The Globe is inundated with all sorts of requests from paranormal investigators. They make a small charge for them to explore the building in the dead of night. The reasoning behind this they say is that the incident caused a drop in attendance. People are nervous, and they need to fund the building and events somehow. Their 'case' even featured in a televised paranormal investigation, it hadn't come to any conclusions. Did this sort of thing ever. Phil wishes it had, he'd take anything right now.

People start to tell him to stop wasting his time on superstitious nonsense, and to start living again. How can he start living when he is already dead inside. He will 'waste' his time and his money however he wants to. If looking for Dan until the day he dies is going to take up all of his time and every penny he's ever earned or ever will earn then so be it.

***

This is not real, This is not real! has become Dan's mantra. He is eating a simple breakfast at the table of the man who'd found him, numb and so terribly fucked up, really unbelievably fucked up. The man is called Jeffrey, and just might be an actual saint. Jeffrey's family had absorbed Dan, like it was no big deal, a great big lanky thing appearing from nowhere and coming to live with you. They had no reason to trust him, but trust him they did.

The language is becoming easier to understand, it's not so different from modern English once you get used to it. Maybe it had helped, being a drama nerd at school, reading all that Shakespeare and Chaucer. Dan slips into it when he needs to almost as easily as 'normal' speech now.

Jeffrey's family provides him with a very basic wardrobe, it makes him feel less out of place but so very sad. He does't want to fit in, he wants his life back, he want's Phil back, Phil is his life. He is becoming familiar with a lot of the local customs, but each new discovery, each new first time he does something right saddens him to the core.

He doesn't know how he's doing this, how he's getting through each day, and each very long night without Phil. He's all he can think about, he must be so worried, terrified even. In his narrow cot at night his arms ache to hold him, his lips burn with the absence of kisses. He cries himself to sleep only most nights now. He doesn't want to not cry himself to sleep, the fact that it doesn't happen every night anymore saddens him. He doesn't want to live his life here, to get on with it, adjust and get used to it. He never wants to have a day when Phil isn't living inside his head.

Jeffrey manages to get Dan a position at the Globe, as night staff. They don't have midnight performances like they do in Phil's Globe, so it's closed up at night. This area of London can be a bit rough, so there is a small staff of misfits employed to keep drunks and the homeless from dossing in the building in between uses. Jeffrey had thought that was what Dan was when he'd first met him. A drunken carouser from one of the local inns, broken in to sleep it off in peace. Dan thinks that this makes the fact that something in Jeffrey prompted him to offer Dan help and comfort and continuing support even more awesome.

Dan doesn't want to work in the place that destroyed his life at first, but when he goes on the first night with Jeffrey he finds it oddly comforting. This is the last place they were together.

As the weeks go by and he gets to know Jeffrey's family better they start to ask questions. Ask why such a 'fine young man' isn't married with a family yet. They are sad for him, they really seem to like him. It becomes more obvious that they are trying to pair him off with their eldest daughter Mary. He actually likes her, he really does, they chat quite a lot, he helps her with her chores. She's pretty, blond curly hair and quick intelligent grey eyes, and he really really doesn't want to go out with her. This isn't home, and he is not free.

He very much doesn't want to offend Jeffrey or his family, but he's finding it hard. They keep pushing, thinking that they are doing him a favour, while finding someone they have grown to love for the daughter they love.  
It's a Thursday evening when Jeffrey and Dan decide to spend a few hours at the local inn, Jeffrey feels Dan isn't engaging with life enough, he's probably right. Dan would much rather spend time trying to work out what the hell had happened. He often spends time at the site of his and Phil's flat, trying to figure out if there was a way to leap back home somehow. He's convinced himself that what happened is something to do with The Globe and the energy performances can generate but no clue what to do with that idea.

Most of his waking hours are simply eaten away by thoughts of Phil, the yearning often so intense that he sometimes slips into a feverish state for several hours. He doesn't know how his emotions are translated by his body into this sweaty trembling mess that bothers him but they are. When he realises that he hasn't suffered from this for a week now, even though he doesn't want the sick weak feeling this generates it's yet another indicator that he's adjusting. This realisation makes him cry for the first time in two days.

That evening after a few tankards of ale, and admittedly pleasant conversation the subject of Mary comes up again, not so subtly this time. “She is a fresh and virtuous maiden Daniel, strong in body and mind. Methinks many hale and comely children would spring from thine union”. Dan is taken aback by the bluntness of Jeffrey's statement. It's not that he doesn't like Mary. He's just very much in love with someone else. He's not on the market, he's never going to be on the market here. Such a bold and proactive approach takes him a little by surprise.

He tries his best to explain that he already has someone, someone that he loves to distraction, someone that he's been forcibly separated from. It's not easy to do when Jeffrey still believes he's just a poor soul who's lost his memory.

Jeffrey is worried for Dan, he doesn't understand how he can remember a partner so vividly when he remembers nothing else. He thinks that maybe Daniel doesn't much care for his daughter, but they seem close, he appears to like her. He decides to let nature take it's course, or not, and trust to the fates for Mary's future. Of course Dan remembers everything, it's just easier to allow Jeffrey to think he's an amnesiac. There is nothing about his real story that wouldn't lead Jeffrey to believe that he was either maliciously lying in the most ridiculous way, or insane.

This warm and loving family are coaxing him to move on, make the best of this part of his life. Get married, make a home, have babies. There is no one he would ever, could ever do that with other than Phil.

Dan wakes up that night from such a vivid dream at first he thinks he's home. He is with Phil, the dream had started right from their lips meeting, no preamble at all. He can feel them, soft and pliant against his own. Heat flushing his body as his hands trace the familiar shape so dear to him. They are standing in their hallway, next to their lounge. His hands are stroking along that achingly familiar jaw, thumbs catching agains soft earlobes as his fingers bury themselves in the feathery black strands pulling Phil closer, the kiss is desperate, open mouthed, deep and sinful. Their bodies press together so tight, he can feel Phil's hardness against the top of his thigh, his own pressed against his abdomen, heavy aching and hot, leaking against his skin.

Lost in each other they grind together, drawing a ragged moan from Dan's lips. In his dream they are not going to make it the short stumbling distance to a bedroom. They're going to come right here, fully clothed. He feels Phil's muscles become taut against him, starting to shake, whispering adorations against his ear, thighs trembling uncontrollably now, jerking his hips forward, pushing harder against Dan as his back bows, all his muscles becoming rigid, his breathing is coming in short gasps before collapsing against him his face buried against Dans neck, littering the tender skin with small kisses as he gasps for breath.

Dan holds him against the wall, taking Phil's weight, as he ruts against him, heat pooling low in his belly, his own orgasm building explosively. For the first time since he fell he comes, thick hot spurts soaking his stomach, ripping a cry of Phil's name from his lips. That day he doesn't leave his room, thoughts of Phil take over and he just can't function. He can barely breath let alone try anything complicated, like walking, or talking. He, claims illness as the reason. Jeff kindness personified as always covers for him at work that night.

A few months later at work they are doing the rounds when they discover a group of young people, very ineptly trying to steal the pennies collected from the last performance. The money has already been removed so they are out of luck there. One of them puts up a fight, bravado mostly, he wants to show off and take on “the giant”. A lucky punch sees Dan unconscious for the second time this year.

This time is different. He looks about him, he is home! It looks pretty much the same as the last time he saw it, but messier, uncared for somehow. Immediately he seeks Phil, moving through the lounge towards the bedroom, hoping so hard that Phil is at home. Dread settles over him, Phil might have moved away, but the furniture is the same so he hopes he's wrong. No sign of him in 'Phil's room'.

Dan doesn't feel as if he is walking, this time he just thinks of his room and he's there. So is Phil, sitting in the butt chair, staring out of the window into the never quite dark night of London. The street is relatively quiet, it's late, very late, and Phil is very still, his expression blank and unreadable. Dan has never seen such dark circles under someones eyes before.

"Phil!.. Please hear me... I love you, I'm here!" Dan reaches out, runs his fingers through Phil's hair. At least he tries, there is no cool silky slip of hair against his fingers, but the hair appears to move slightly, as if ruffled by the whisper of a breeze. Dan's eyebrows lift, can he physically affect his surroundings?

Hope for the first time since he left starts to fizz along his veins. Dan moves to stand between Phil and the window, he needs to see his face, drink it in, devour him with his eyes. His heart flips and he can hardly breath, he's so close, he can see all the colours of Phil's eyes. He has missed him more than he can bear. His pulse seemed to throb through every cell, his need clawing its way out of his body. Stay, he has to stay.

Dan leans forward, cupping Phil's face tenderly. he presses their lips together, tears start to fall, he can't feel him, not properly just a whisper of something there. Phil startles, his eyes becoming wide, almost scared. His breath wrenching out of him in a sob, "Dan!?” He spins in the chair, eyes frantically searching the room. He stands, shooting out of the seat as if galvanised by electricity. “Dan?.... Are you here?". His eyes continue to dart around the room the desperation painfully clear in them. "Phil!" Dan's stomach lurches, his heart is tight it aches, “PHIL!!” His voice holds all the desperation that Phil's eyes do and more, imbued with all the hope and love inside.

Phil is stunned into immobility, the uncoordinated spinning he'd started while trying to pinpoint the invisible intruder stills. "Dan? I hope I'm not dreaming, I've had this dream so many times... I can hear you, but you're so quiet.... I don't care if my mind is playing tricks on me I need you, need to hear your voice.."

"Phil, I love you!...... I'm not dead!". Dan is frantic, excited, scared, he knows this isn't going to last... How does he prove he's here, he reaches out towards the bits and pieces on his window sill and tries to flip something off it. One of his books tumbles to the floor. It starts to dawn on him. If any part of this is real... "Sleep Phil, I think sleep is the key". Everything starts to fade, Dan feels cold, uncomfortable, there is pain too, his jaw aches. Dan feels groggy and is looking into the concerned brown eyes of Jeffrey. “Come lad, wake now or forsooth Mary will have my gizzards for garters”.

Dan is as surprised as Jeffrey when a huff of laughter escapes him. He can't remember the last time a genuine laugh made its way out of his throat. Dan's smile is gentle, it reaches his eyes properly for the first time probably since he came here. Carefully he rubs a hand over his sore jaw. It clicks a little as he tests it. If he hadn't hallucinated the whole thing maybe Phil knows he is alive, Phil is alive, it isn't much but he'll take what he can get right now.

They've become close, him and Jeff, there is a brotherly quality to their friendship. The whole family have wormed their way into his heart. Mary is the annoying younger sister he never had. Another reason if any other was needed than his crazy all encompassing love for Phil Lester why he couldn't possibly marry her. Incest was not a feeling he thought was appropriate in a marriage. He needed to set them right once and for all, and take the consequences.

A smile splits Jeffrey's face from ear to ear. “I thought thou wouldst never return lad, you were felled by a mighty blow there”. “Nah, he was just lucky is all”. Jeffrey's grin becomes a laugh, he is becoming accustomed to his friends strange manner of speech.

An hour later at Jeffrey's small home Dan is being both soundly berated for trying to tackle dangerous ne'er-do-wells, and being thoroughly fussed over. Jeffrey's wife Elizabeth is a real mother hen. Dan's head is bathed, and a hot broth is sitting on the table in front of him, also a good strong tankard of ale was deemed necessary to revive him. Dan's smile has taken up permanent residence. He's seen Phil, he had looked frail, ill even, but if this weird experience was not just wishful thinking then just maybe there is a way back to him.

***

It's five thirty in the morning and Phil is on the phone, as agitated and excited as Chris has ever heard him. "Please? pleeeease come over, I really need to talk to you, I've heard Dan"  
"Now calm down Phil, you've 'heard' Dan?.. Do you mean you've heard 'from' Dan?"  
"Yes... No...I want to explain, I think I have proof.."  
“Proof of what Phil... that you want to hear Dan's voice...”  
Even as the words left his mouth Chris inwardly cursed himself, God how would he cope if he lost someone he loves as much as Phil loves Dan. There is no response at the other end of the line, but he thinks he hears breathing, shit is Phil crying. “Phil? You still there buddy, look I'm really sorry, I love you ok. I'm coming over”  
“You don't have to” Phil's voice is so quiet, sounds so done, so flat.

I did that Chris thinks, the first time he's heard Phil with any life in his voice for months and he killed it. He is a shit friend.

“I wasn't thinking straight Phil, I was just tired ok. We all miss him, any hope is something yeah? I'll be there as soon as I can, no arguments, I'm at my front door already, I'm even nearly dressed, maybe better get some keks on...?”

Phil giggles at that, Chris has a knack for making him feel at least a little better, he didn't blame him for thinking he was losing the plot, not really.

Chris sighs, they are all starting to worry for Phil, he's really not moving on. Not that you every really get over something like this, but you usually start to function somehow. Phil isn't; and now he's what? Hearing things, fantasising, or maybe, Chris hopes, almost prays even though he's not religious, that there might be something to this.

Chris snatches his keys from the hall table and lets himself out, and then back in again, it's quite cold at five forty five in the morning without your coat. Automatically he heads for somewhere open at this ungodly hour to pick up something greasy, and sweet and not at all healthy to try and tempt Phil to eat.

Phil has lost a lot of weight, there wasn't a lot of meat on him to begin with. He doesn't seem to be eating unless someone reminds him, and then he picks, and pushes it around the plate distractedly. They'd learnt that a nice fatty pastry, or pancakes, or milk shake, basically something sweet, is more likely to make it into his stomach than other foods. Not the best diet, but it is something.

His eyes are huge now, his high cheek bones taking on a sharper angle with every passing week. Chris remembers the time Dan was a bit tipsy and went on a bit of a ramble about Phil's eyes. “They're the blue of a summer sky just before twilight, until you get close, then you see the little flashes of citrine, and green, like a beautiful subtle mosaic”. Dan had loved Phil's eyes, he'd said he could stare into them until he forgot to breath. Yup, poor Dan, they'd teased him about that for quite a while.

Chris is surprised to find Phil dressed, washed, shaved and looking quite perky, more animated than he's seen him in a very long time.

"Listen Chris, you're not going to believe this, buuut” Phil's words tumble over one another, pouring from him fast and eager “... bear in mind that Dan disappeared into thin air! That's impossible right? So if that is impossible but it happened; doesn't it mean that what I'm about to tell you could have happened too, even though it seems impossible”. Chris can't argue with his logic, of course what had happened to Dan is impossible, so here goes, “shoot Philip, my mind is wide open”.

Phil lets it out, tells him how he was sitting in Dan's chair, staring into the night, the only thing in his mind Dan's face as he fell, Dan's arms reaching out for him. His heart turning to stone beat by beat. Then "I heard him say my name Chris, it was quiet but I heard it, I could sense him in the room”. Phil sighs before continuing, “of course I ignored it at first, I assumed I was fantasising, I've heard him in my mind so often”. Chris is quiet, nodding, listening, giving his friend space to gather the pieces of his memory and complete the tale. “So I spoke to him. I asked him to repeat it. I felt the air move, he touched my hair, it moved Chris, I didn't just feel it, I saw it in the reflection of the window. I felt his lips on mine, well … there wasn't any warmth or much pressure but I'd know the shape of his lips against mine under any circumstances”. Phil stops for a moment staring at the carpet, takes a deep breath his eyes are shining, he continues more quietly... “I thought he'd gone, but then I heard him more clearly...Phil I love you, I'm not dead... then, Sleep Phil, I think sleep is the key!".

Chris clears his throat, he really wants to believe, he wants this to be true so badly. Phil continues. “When this happened I'd been awake for more than twenty four hours, my brain was in a loop, I was very drowsy just staring out of the window half here, half not, what if...he was also in some kind of altered state where we can communicate, or he was asleep?".

Chris is lost in thought, he stares at Phil as if he's trying to see what happened for himself as if he can click replay and it will happen again right in front of his eyes. He takes a deep breath. "Weellll, as you said, what happened to Dan was impossible. Perhaps he did speak to you. We need to research this, talk to people, maybe me and Peej can be the Giles to your Buffy”.

Phil leans forward, resting his hand on Chris's where they are folded in his lap and squeezes, the most real smile Chris has seen on his face in forever. “Thank you....” Phil is suddenly on his feet, up his eyes huge... “Oh! how could I have nearly forgotten... you see the chair where I was sitting, the butt chair, there's something near it I want you to see. Come at it from the side so you don't disturb it.

Phil is pointing out some smudges on the carpet. “This is what really convinced me it was real, up until I noticed it I'd half convinced myself that I'd hallucinated the whole thing. In some kind of hypnogogic state or from lack of sleep”. A book fell off the window sill too, but that could have been coincidence – I hope it wasn't.

Chris is staring hard at the carpet. "Good God Phil, they really do look like footprints, dusty earthy footprints... how.. I mean.. who.. um..". “I know, right? "Should we inform the police Chris, or get them tested or something?".

At first the police don't want to bother with dusty footprints, they don't see the relevance. Eventually Phil manages to convince them that there needs to be some kind of record, even test of the soil because maybe someone had broken in. Or Dan had not really disappeared and briefly come back to the flat for some reason. Somehow he feels better that there is some kind of record. After the police have taken their pictures and samples Phil, Chris and PJ manage to find someone, who doesn't cost the earth that is willing to analyse the muddy dust for them. They don't know what they think this will achieve but it's all they've got.

When the tests come back a few weeks later they show the earth has come from the Thames bank area, within the city of London. One thing the report seems to indicate though is that surprisingly the dirt along with minute particles of man made items - tiny slivers of worked wood here, a minuscule fragment of copper there, is that the dust is much older than the earth that might be picked up on shoes today. There is no explanation for this, just a suggestion that the composition seems to be what one might expect to pick up around four hundred years ago. Such as might be picked up at an archaeological dig.

The three friends are puzzled, and weirdly excited. The mystery just keeps getting deeper, but at least there are clues, no matter how bizarre. Within a couple of hours of getting the results they have scoured the internet, and rung several government bodies and tourist organisations to find out if there are any digs going on along the Thames. The answer at every turn has been no.

That night for the first time since he had that very vivd dream about him and Dan making out in their hallway he wakes in the night with an erection. He's so painfully hard, he'd been dreaming about Dan again, but this dream was a weak ghost of the one he'd had months ago. That one had been so real, he'd come in his pyjamas and woke gasping and flushed and aching to hold Dan. This one is teasing, ephemeral wisps of memory and yearning, keeping him aroused, but he can't catch it, Dan isn't 'there'. He gets up and goes to the bathroom splashing his face with cold water, thinking of his Nan taking him to the park as a child. He manages to will away his erection, it's too painful to do anything with it, it just makes him feel more lonely. The Dan shaped ache in his heart is hard to bear the next day.

Several weeks later PJ is spinning in the office desk chair, the energy vibrating through his body has to go somewhere. "Well I just keep coming back to the Globe? It's on the banks of the Thames isn't it. We just keep coming back to the same thing, it's a dead end. We, the police, a shit load of Dan's subscribers, not to mention family members have searched that damn building inside out since Dan disappeared". Phil taps his lips with his forefinger deep in thought.

PJ carries on “Now what do we do Chris? I mean we have evidence, but what the hell does it mean, what can it do to help us” It's a little while since they've all had time to be together to try and move forward.

While Chris and PJ spit ball ideas Phil moves to the wardrobe and takes out a pair of Dan's shoes, one of Dan's favourites. Ones Phil kind of hate loves, the ones with the double zips. He carefully places them on the by now, despite Phil's obsessive attempts to preserve them, quite faded dusty imprints that still decorate the carpet. They seem to be a perfect fit. He doesn't know why he hasn't done that before.

Phil leaves the shoes there, it reminds him that he isn't going mad, Dan came to him he's sure. They all move to the living room, popping into the kitchen to grab coffees on the way.

Despite the sad and unusual circumstances of their meeting the've known each other for a long time. and the conversation starts to flow, just for a short while it isn't all about Dan. They can't quite remember who suggests it, but somewhere in the day they decide to try an experiment. It seems kind of childish, the sort of thing you might do as a kid at a halloween sleepover, but they don't have anything solid to grasp, no logical threads to weave together.

They are going to try a sort of séance. Phil doesn't want to call it a séance, because that implies Dan might be dead. Instead he refers to it as the Schrödinger’s Dan experiment, where Dan is both somewhere else and here simultaneously. It keeps things just the right side of light hearted to stop him breaking apart again.

They decide that despite the mistake of mainlining too much coffee during the day that they are going to try and sleep. The late afternoon has long given way to evening, and heads into night. They try and research on the internet 'aware sleeping', because this is obviously a thing, right? The best they can come up with is how to lucid dream. It seems as close as they can get to what they have in mind. One site suggests they try to fall asleep with an arm sort of upright, the body locks into position as it drifts off to sleep but the muscle tension keeps a part of the brain awake.

Chris very much thinks this is a very stupid idea that won't work. Chris also thinks that he'd piss on a hamster if he though it would help. They agree that they can try the arm thing or a version of it, they also agree that it should be tonight, because they should all be there...and they must all be thinking of Dan, talking about Dan as they drift off.

PJ is insistent that this will ensure that their brain waves will then be attuned to Dan's 'frequency' and help contact him. Phil and Chris both nearly go blind with the professional strength of eye rolling that this concept garners. However they have nothing else to try, and they are desperate.

They wait an hour, listening to soft relaxing music, then move to Dan's bedroom, settling cross legged on the bed. Talking about Dan, so many good memories. It's the first time Phil has reminisced about Dan with friends since it happened. It's simply been too painful for him. He has somehow ended up with their Calcifer plushy in his arms, he strokes and squeezes it absently while they try and get into the right frame of mind to 'nap' together.

The room becomes quieter, the chatter naturally dying down, the time nears three fifteen, a little after the time Dan disappeared Phil realises. They have slowly sprawled out on the bed, grabbing pillows, or simply using each other as a pillow substitute. There is barely room for the three of them, Chris mumbles something about how the too small bed for three great big men can act as the weird positional discomfort that can induce the lucid dreamy astral projectiony thing, that keeps bits of their brain awake. Except that only part of his ramble is audible, and no one has a clue what he's on about.

No one remembers anything about being awake after that because suddenly there is nothing. Then there are colours, abstract swirls of purple, turquoise blue, soft dusky pinks, and light bursting through it all. Phil hears whispers, it sounds like PJ, He feels Chris, that's the only way he can describe it, senses his presence, strong, standing over them. It's an oddly comforting sensation of protection.

Disbelief almost threatens to throw Phil out of whatever this is, but then he sees it... the three of them are looking down at a stage. The familiar pattern of the globe. Dan is sitting on the edge of the stage. long legs dangling, eyes closed swaying slightly. More whispers fill the air, the sibilant sounds like rushing water, or wind through leaves. Phil starts to make out a pattern in the sound, not like PJ this time, soft voices rising above the whispers.

"Dan?!". Dan's head snaps up his eyes wide. Phil sees his mouth form a familiar name "Phil?". They are observing him through some kind of cloudy funnel. Like a telescope made out of mist. His voice is coming to them, faint and cutting in and out, a bit like Younow when it's buffering it's tits off, as Chris was to put it so sweetly later on. Phil can hear him, really hear him, still broken up but Phil can make it out “I can see y-- guys... Oh G-d, - want to c-m home! Phil can't take it. Dan looks so desperate, he needs him so badly. Phil reaches out, he has to touch him, Dan's arms raise to meet him and the tunnel closes around them. Dan is gone again.

They wake to Phil's anguished cry. Each face pale and startled, exactly as if they had seen a ghost. Peej is the first to break the silence. "Shakespeare!" did any of you guys get what the whispering was saying? Chris nods, he heard it too, but for some reason less distinctly than the others had. “Shakespeare tore you apart he can bring you back together again” PJ says, “and sleep is the key”.

None of them have a clue what this all means but it is something, it is real, they all experienced it. It is freaky shit but there is hope. Now all they have to do is figure out how to use this information.

***

It's nearly a year since Dan lost his life. He is cared for and guided well by his new family but it all still feels unreal. He still goes to bed in the early hours each morning praying to wake from a dream, in his own bed with Phil by his side. He is a walking dead man, despite the hope seeing Phil has given him. Jeff, Mary and Elizabeth are so kind. Since the time when that lucky punch had sent Dan back home he hasn't been able to make it happen again, and he doesn't know what to do.

Jeffrey has helped him to find his own lodgings for a very reasonable rate just around the corner. Dan keeps his own company and he rarely goes out except to work, he values the privacy. Jeff and the family descend upon him now and then and insist that he mingles, they want their friend to be happy.

He only cries himself to sleep about half of the time now, he's developed a habit that he's quite ashamed of, but it helps him, while also not helping him at all. The nights when the wanting is ripping him apart and he can't fit inside his own skin he talks to Phil. He doesn't just talk to him, he role plays as if he is there with him. These nights usually lead to him touching himself, he imagines Phil's hands gentle and loving roaming his body. All the familiar little moves that Phil knows will take him apart. He comes with Phil's name on his lips, these are mostly the nights he falls asleep crying.

The anniversary of Dan's departure from his world is approaching, his mind dwells on it more and more. He asks Jeffrey to tell him again the story of how he found him, tell him exactly where and what time it was. Jeffrey isn't sure of the exact time but he believes it was at least two hours after midnight.

Dan decides that he will stay at the Globe that night, one way or another he wants to feel some kind of closeness to Phil, it feels right somehow.

Jeff has gone to check the corridors, he knows what date is coming up, and realises that Dan needs privacy to think. He has been becoming more melancholy with each day approaching the anniversary. Dan walks in circles around the freshly swept earth floor. Little pieces of rush ever present at the edges of the pit, so unfamiliar before add a welcome organic piquancy to the air. Dan takes up a position at the edge of the stage. He likes it there, he can look up at infinity and remember. He must have started to doze, because suddenly he is aware of a sort of snapping sound, like an elastic band twanging loudly against skin.

 

He throws his head back instinctively following the direction of the sound. He literally has to pinch himself. What he seems to see are the translucent shimmering shades of his friends hovering about 15 feet above him. Unsteadily circling a tight orbit, bobbing slightly as if buoyed by water. Their mouths are moving, but Dan's ears feel strange, kind of muffled as if they are about to pop. He shouts, the excitement he feels overcoming his disbelief, “Phil!?”... His heart is hammering beneath his rib cage, “I can see you!”.

They seem to understand... Dan is aware of whispers, layered on top of whispers, on top of the sound of wind in the tree tops. If he wasn't so stupidly pleased to see Phil, and PJ and even Chris for God's sake, he would be shitting himself right now. It's like some kind of horror film, but his only fear is that this connection can't be maintained.

"I can see you... really... Oh God I want to come home!" Phil is reaching for him, if he can just touch him, maybe he can be dragged from this unreal reality, he stretches for him as hard as he can, he stumbles to his feet, if only they could touch. Then they are gone. Dan crumples to his knees, where Jeffrey finds him ten minutes later. Sobbing like a lost child.

Jeffrey doesn't question him, he takes him home. Not back to Dan's lodgings. The family are a good team. They make sure he's safe, and warm, and with people who care, in an echo of the first time he came into their lives. While he rides out this fugue that has robbed him of his senses.

***

Phil wants to try something, Chris and PJ are right on board with him. Unfortunately there is a midnight performance on at the Globe on the anniversary of Dan's disappearance; 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'. Phil and PJ think that if they are at the Globe on this night, and try their sleep thing then maybe the 'magic' for want of a better word might be stronger. Phil had hoped there were no performances or rehearsals on, so that they could try this thing they'd discovered in privacy, at the very least it would allow him to somehow feel closer to Dan on this sad but special date.

Chris goes ahead and books tickets for them even before Phil suggests they go.

They have had no luck trying to contact Dan again since the last time, but it wasn't all that long ago, and it had taken ages between the first and second contact. PJ and Chris are feeling quite optimistic. Phil is not so positive. He's started to go back to his old ways of not eating, he claims food makes him feel sick. The weight is starting to come off again, and Chris has taken to practically force feeding him at every visit. Bringing little titbits of delicious sweet treats and refusing to talk to Phil until he's finished the lot.

The evening before the play Phil spends in Dan's room, he's probably touched every single thing in there a dozen times. As if he can some how soak something of Dan into him by sheer proximity to his stuff. Phil opens a drawer and is faced by most of Dan's favourite T-shirts, a mass of black with a few splashes of colour here and there. He scoops them up and throws them onto the bed and throws himself after them.

Lying on the bed he takes an armful of the soft fabrics and buries his face in them, hugs them to him. Some are laundered some are 'that'll do another day' T's. These are the ones he's drawn to, they still smell like Dan. The scent is barely there anymore, but it is enough for now. The tears come, familiar but he wants them to stop, he doesn't want to cry any more, but the pain won't stop, it just won't stop. His decision is made. He will spend the few hours of the anniversary of what he had come to think of as his death at the Globe. Then when he gets home he will end it here, in Dan's room surrounded by all that he had left of him.

Phil meets PJ and Chris outside the Globe, Chris immediately shoves a MacDonald's muffin into his hands and barks “eat!” Not his best offering but Phil obediently chews a few mouthfuls. It revives him more than he expects, not surprising really as all he's had today is a handful of dry chocolate Shreddies. No wonder he was feeling a little woozy.

Chris and Peej are subdued, their eyes are red rimmed as if they have been crying, Phil feels selfish. He may have been his partner, but there are others who miss Dan too. They follow the familiar awkwardly tight windy routes to their seats. The atmosphere between them almost expectant, but oddly tense too. For Phil it brings back memories of that night, almost too painful to handle. The play washes over him. It contains some beautiful lines but initially Phil just isn't engaged.

Chris and PJ exchange worried looks over Phil's head when they think he isn't looking. Of course he can see them perfectly well, they aren't exactly subtle. Phil realises that they seem to have grown closer since all this has happened, and despite himself he smiles at the thought.

The words "Not poppy nor mandragora, nor all the drowsy syrups of the world shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep which thou owed'st yesterday" hit a resounding chord with Phil. He hasn't slept much since Dan left, even though he so desperately wants to. After all sleep is the only time he might get a chance to see Dan again.

Phil is drifting. He is aware that this feels strange, not his normal drifting to sleep. For a silly moment he wonders if he's managed to starve himself to death, is this what if feels like to die. One way or another he is fast losing the battle to stay conscious. Chris and PJ hold hands across Phil's lap, it feels nice, they smile almost shyly at one another. This hand holding serves two other purposes, the main one being that it acts like a safety belt for a sleepy Phil. They are not about to lose him over the edge of a bloody balcony as well. The second is that PJ still hopes they can form a psychic link that will lead Dan home somehow, and this seems as good a time as any to strengthen it with physical contact. Chris will take that, he really will.

As Puck's final address to the audience caresses the air, it seems to hold meaning, and magic

"If we shadows have offended,  
Think but this, and all is mended,  
That you have but slumber'd here  
While these visions did appear.  
And this weak and idle theme,  
No more yielding, but a dream,  
Gentles, do not reprehend;  
If you pardon, we will mend.  
And, as I am an honest Puck,  
If we have unearned luck,  
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,  
We will make amends ere long:  
Else the Puck a liar call.  
So good night unto you all.  
Give me your hands, if we be friends,  
And Robin shall restore amends."

Phil feels himself slipping, the air is thick somehow, sweet, and fragrant but difficult to breathe. He opens his eyes and standing in front of him is Dan. This is not happening... is it? Phil rubs his eyes, he's on his feet. Chris and PJ can see him too because they are on their feet too reaching for Dan. Phil shakes himself out of his shocked inaction and he makes a grab for Dan too, he misses.

“Oh God, No! No!” it's as if Dan is a spirit replaying that fateful fall. Dan sees Chris and PJ's arms pass straight though him. He looks at Phil, really sees him, his eyes wide in shock as he starts to fall again. Just the way he had the year before. Phil is sure the other people in the auditorium that are in the right place to see them see it too because there is a gasp.

Phil flings himself at the spectre. Not caring for a second whether he goes through him and over the balcony. He can't let Dan fall alone again. HIs arms make contact with something warm and solid. A bolt of electricity sears through his body, but he doesn't let go. He falls, they fall, together. Dan beams, shocked but happy, their lips lock. To die like this Phil thinks would be fine. With Dan in his arms. Everything fades, there is nothing, no pain, just darkness. they fall together. Phil is asleep, Phil is warm. Phil wakes up.

Dan is still in his arms, and he is smiling so wide, he is real and he is alive. Phil's system is overloaded, he's going to vomit. Dan's sarcastic tone comes to his ears like nectar, "well that's a nice way to welcome me back Philip". Phil is so happy, Dan is back and he's still the sarcastic twat he loves. He wants to laugh, he want to cry, but all he manages are a few abortive snorts and yelps as he's too busy dry retching against his boyfriend

They are surrounded by people. Chris and PJ panting push their way to the front. "Fuck, you scared the living shit out of us". Pj swat's at Chris's arm and mumbles “Chris don't swear, there's kids here”. Chris shoots him a frustrated tight lipped look that dares him to say anything else, considering the circumstances he feels swearing is completely appropriate. It is also a look of unbearably sweet affection.

This moment could be mistaken for a case of deja vu, almost a repeat of the previous year. The sirens rise in the distance, but Dan is here in his arms, where he belongs. Phil does not care one jot that there are crowds pressing in on them. He kisses Dan, he kisses him like his life depends on it, and Dan kisses him back, because Phil is his life, he is home.

Paramedics arrive at the scene, this time they do have people who have fallen from a height to deal with. Remarkably Phil and Dan are pretty much unscathed, some bruising is starting to bloom across their skin, but there seem to be no breaks. When they fell it seems that the audience was pretty altruistic. Instead of running away they had instinctively formed a circle where it looked as if the boys were going to fall, many had reached out their arms as if to try and catch them. Enough had done it that they had managed to not catch them, but break their fall. The only broken bones are unfortunately a couple of fingers amongst these very kind people.

Something more inexplicable are the burn marks which are, now that the adrenalin is slowly leaving their bodies becoming more painful. Phil's inner forearms, the first part of his body to wrap around Dan, and on Dan's back and chest, again points of first contacts. The ambulance crew think they look a little like electrical burns but can't understand how or why. In this moment that doesn't matter they are just injuries which need treating.

They are finally allowed home, burns dressed, checked for fractures and a marbling of bruises embellishing their bodies. Chris and PJ come back with them, they insist on it to make sure they are ok. They also take the duty of contacting other friends and relatives to tell them the good news. PJ is having a very tricky time trying to convince both sets of parents that waiting to come to the flat the next morning would be best. Dan wants to see his parents, so so much, but he wants to spend some time with Phil alone first, he wants to tell him all about where he's been, he wants some quality time with the internet most of all he wants Starbucks and to cuddle with Phil in their bed.

Before he can get these things though the combined excitement of the group, of being home, carries them all through the early hours of the morning. They hash over ideas about what on earth could have happened. Some serious some very not serious. They all agree whatever these things were they had combined with the 'magic' words of Shakespeare to do something “really fucking freaky” as PJ put it. He is convinced that the mischievous spirits of Ariel, and Puck somehow temporarily found life and messed with them. It seemed as good an explanation as any. 

Chris wants to know more about Elizabethan London, Dan's first response was quick, “it smelt a lot like poo”. It would be a while before they got anything else out of him.

Eventually after a lot of heavy hinting from Dan about how they haven't been 'alone' together in literally ages their friends finally get the hint and scoot.

They lay on the bed hands together fingers entwined, staring at the ceiling still unable to fully comprehend their situation. So much to share, as the sky starts to lighten again they talk, they kiss, they lay in each others arms just staring at each other. Dan is sad that he didn't get to say goodbye to his Elizabethan family, he hopes that they have good and happy lives. He makes Phil promise that when their families descend on them in probably only a few hours they will order in a banquet of takeaway, and that Phil will eat at least half of it. Dan apparently is worried about how thin Phil has become. He also makes Phil promise that they will never have anything to do with that bloody William Shakespeare again.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the characters named in this story by any name they may chose to use. Nor do I wish to suggest that this story is anything other than purely fictional.


End file.
